


Sunflowers and Serendipity [Platonic! Steve Rogers x Reader]

by SilverStudios5140



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Comfort, Feel-good, Floriography, Flower Language, Friendship is Magic, Gen, He gets one too, Healing, Kid Peter Parker, Light-Hearted, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, No Romance, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, everyone gets flowers tbh, he also gets flowers, teen reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:46:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23580283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverStudios5140/pseuds/SilverStudios5140
Summary: In a time when nothing slows down, (Y/n) (L/n) chances upon a man out of time, hurting and lost and looking for something he doesn’t even know, and she decides to stick to him because what has she to lose in telling him that sometimes, you don’t have to know how to swim if just know how to float.After all, sometimes, heroes need saving, too.ORIn which Steve Rogers befriends a teenager and finds his life filling with flowers and healing.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Reader, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	1. (0/10)

Steve Rogers often finds himself alone these days.

It is to be expected of a man out of time. There is no one left for him to call his own, and there is nobody he bothers to try to get to know the way one would to call someone else a ‘friend’.

He has the Avengers, but they’re more his colleagues than his friends. Aside from the occasional team-building training session or mission, they don’t really get together, and try to become bigger parts of each other’s lives.

None of them are of that sort. Too many of them have learnt not to trust anyone wholeheartedly, and it’s sad, but he feels strange about imposing his presence on them, so he doesn’t.

Besides, the rest of the Avengers aren’t completely alone. Tony has Pepper Potts and Colonel James Rhodes and his machines and now, Banner. Bruce, in turn, has an unquestionable friend in Tony. Thor has his own people on Asgard. Natasha has Clint, and Clint has her.

All of that boils down to Steve. Just Steve.

He wonders how fate can be so cruel. Before he went under, Steve had found something good for himself with Peggy and his Howling Commandos.

Then he’d lost Bucky.

And soon after, he lost just about everybody else, too.

The world moved on without him, and now he’s left running between decades and clutching memories from an age that has long passed, but burns far too brightly in his own mind to be able to be pushed back.

But he still tries his best.

He throws himself into training at S.H.I.E.L.D and does mission after mission and desperately keeps himself busy. When he can’t do that, Steve learns about the world around him. He goes through history and economics, learns about war after war after war, reads about man reaching the moon and so much more beyond that, and he spends hours on the Internet or at a library until his eyes burn and he can’t bear to think.

And he does it all alone, and he tells himself that it’s okay. This is okay.

He’s spent a little over two years doing just this, and he thinks that he’d like to have someone to call a friend and rely on, but he’s okay and maybe he’ll finally find his place in the current of the 21st century where nothing waits for anyone and he barely knows how to swim.

Until he meets her. (Y/n) (L/n). The girl with a pocketful of luck and an affinity for floating, who told him that he had beautifully sad eyes the very first time she met him and knows meanings of flowers just as she knows how to breathe.

And maybe it’s a little strange for a super-soldier living in the wrong era to end up befriending a seventeen-year-old girl brimming with life and wonder, but Steve puts that out of mind and lets her teach him what it means to live again, and he lets himself learn and heal.

In a time when nothing slows down, (Y/n) (L/n) chances upon a man, hurting and lost and looking for something he doesn’t even know, and she decides to stick to him because what has she to lose in telling him that sometimes, you don’t have to know how to swim if just know how to float.

After all, sometimes, heroes need saving, too.


	2. (1/10)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daffodil: The daffodil symbolizes rebirth and new beginnings. In some cultures, it is also a symbol for luck.

** Daffodil **

Steve starts finding the flowers around mid-June.

They pop up at random times of the day, seemingly randomly, but they’re always there every day, waiting at his doorstep.

Some days, he gets a bunch of sunflowers or a bouquet of white larkspur or, sometimes, just a single yellow rose.

At first, he tries to look out for who is leaving him flowers, unable to deny the cold creeping of suspicion. Once he is sure that the flowers are simply flowers (S.H.I.E.L.D has instilled some immediate scrutiny in him, unfortunately), the suspicion dies down into curiosity.

By the middle of the second week, he decides to forget about looking for the mystery flower-bringer, and resolves to simply accepting the act as one of the few genuinely good things in his life.

Sometimes, if he finds the flowers in the morning or before he has to head over to S.H.I.E.L.D, he takes them with him and gives them to Natasha because she always looks thoroughly amused by him doing so, and because he thinks that she’d like sharing a part of what often makes his day.

Once, as a challenge, he lets her talk him into giving a bouquet of sunflowers to Fury.

Steve decides that his apartment looks more like someone’s home when he has vases filled with flowers lying around the place. They die out soon, but he always has new ones as a replacement, and maybe Steve feels happier when he is greeted by daisies and roses rather than emptiness and silence.

He doesn’t ever really expect to find out who the anonymous flower-giver is, let alone catch them in the act. But there she is- a girl, no older than seventeen, crouched down to place a bunch of daffodils onto the doormat.

Slowly, calmly, her head turns in his direction, and she straightens to her full height a moment later, a pleasant smile on her face while he only stares in silence, unsure of what to do with knowledge he isn’t sure he wants anymore.

“Are you the one who’s been leaving me flowers?” he asks after a beat of silence that had been uncomfortable for him even though the girl looked absolutely unbothered.

She smiles, absently stroking the petal of one of the flowers in her hold, and nods. “You got me,” she says.

Steve waits, hoping for some sort of explanation, but she stares back at him. And while there is nothing searching or intimidating about her gaze- it was rather passive and expectant, actually- he feels pinned down by it, feeling like she can see right through him without her even trying to.

So, he asks her instead, “Why have you been doing that?”

“Because you looked like you needed it,” she answers easily, like it was the most obvious thing in the world and a perfectly natural thing for someone to notice.

Although something about the way she smiles tells him that this isn’t far from the norm for the girl.

“You’re Captain America, aren’t you?” the girl asks, tilting her head and looking at him with unbidden curiosity. Steve straightens up in response, looking down at her cautiously as her smile widens. “I remember you from eight grade American History class. And the Battle of New York, I suppose.”

He’s confused by her nonchalance, but he nods anyways. Typically, nobody recognizes him, and when they do, he’s greeted by a lot of enthusiasm or nervousness. Never really the kind of ease the girl is exuding.

She is more relaxed than he is, and it’s throwing him off more than he cares to admit.

“Your name is Steve…”

“Rogers,” he supplies when he realizes that she’s trailed off because she doesn’t know. He isn’t very surprised. He doubts most kids remember him beyond eight grade history or the mantle of Captain America.

But she smiles cheerfully, and somehow, he knows that she’s smiling at Steve and not the Captain.

“I’m (Y/n),” she introduces herself calmly. “I’m across the hall from you.”

He’s struck by the simplicity of the meeting and how utterly regular it is even if the circumstances are a little strange. So, slowly, he relaxes and tries to return her smile, finally noticing that the girl has the kind of air around her that puts one at ease.

Despite her obviously eccentric nature, he figures that she’d be quite likable if one got to know her.

He twists his keys in his hands, deliberating for a moment. “Thank you,” he says after a pause, “for leaving me flowers.”

Her unbidden smile shifts into something brighter, and he’s oddly happy that the expression is because of him.

“No problem, Mr. Steve,” she assures, now extending the bouquet of bright yellow flowers towards him. “Daffodils,” she informs him meaningfully. “They stand for cheerfulness and new beginnings.”

Dazedly, he accepts the flowers, looking from them to the girl and finding a sad smile curled on her lips that he doesn’t understand, but it fills him with an unknown heaviness that he doesn’t like so he looks away again.

“You have very pretty eyes,” she observes, undeterred as she inclines her head. “They’re kind of sad right now. Like the sky when it’s about to rain.” Her expression shifts again, carefree youth etched into the soft lines of her face as she turns away slightly, hand raised in a half-wave. “I’ll see you around, Mr. Steve. Have a nice day!”

And then she’s gone before he can process everything that happened, leaving him standing there, oddly confused and acutely aware of the fact that he was alone.

His gaze drifts to the door across from his- the one (Y/n) disappeared behind- and he shakes his head, resolving to just get some sleep before the mission he has later in the night.

He dreams of rain and grey skies, and daffodils, and of strange girls with faraway smiles and all-seeing eyes.

When he awakes, his eyes wander over to the bright, yellow flowers and he smiles to himself because somehow, the room doesn’t feel quite as cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daffodil: The daffodil symbolizes rebirth and new beginnings. In some cultures, it is also a symbol for luck.


	3. (2/10)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy: The most accepted meaning of daisy is simplicity, purity, and innocence.

** Daisies **

(Y/n) still leaves him flowers, and Steve is glad that discovering her identity didn’t bring an end to that. Now, she also leaves a little note attached, informing him of whatever the flowers mean.

He thinks it a nice change of pace from things usually are for him. There is something so inexplicably wonderful about a perpetual stranger going out of her way to bring him flowers everyday simply because he looked like he needed it.

But he feels weird about simply taking, especially now that he knows who’s responsible, so Steve finds himself wanting to do something nice for (Y/n) in turn.

Problem is, he doesn’t know the first thing about what a teenage girl would like, and the answers that the Internet gives him don’t sound like they’re going to work.

So, on a Sunday evening, he finds himself ringing her doorbell and standing uncertainly in wait for the girl to open the door.

“Oh, it’s you,” she notes, blinking back her surprise. “Hello, Mr. Steve.”

Being referred to as ‘Mr. Steve’ is a little strange for him, but he goes with it anyways. “Hello,” he returns politely. “I’m sorry for showing up all of a sud-“

“It’s fine,” she interrupts, waving a hand dismissively. “Did you need something?”

He blinks, feeling a little (a lot) silly, but he decides to go for it since the door is open anyways and he can’t just walk away. “I’ve been meaning to do something nice for you in exchange for the flowers, but I don’t know what you’d like.”

(Y/n) perks up, grinning blindingly at him. “That’s very sweet of you,” she smiles brightly. “You could probably have just gotten me a tub of ice-cream or a chocolate bar, though.”

Sheepishly, he rubs the back of his neck. Safe to say, Steve knew next to nothing about what to do when anyone of the opposite sex was involved, regardless of age.

“No worries!” she announces. “We can go now, if you’re free.”

Since he _is_ free, Steve awkwardly consents to treating the girl to an ice-cream, and trails along with her as she strolls along the streets, completely ignoring any discomfort in his demeanor.

Randomly going out for ice-cream with someone you don’t know very well isn’t a regular occurrence- he’s sure of that, but somehow, that thought is pushed to the back of his mind as soon as (Y/n) starts talking.

She starts off with an observation about the flowers that had sprouted up through the cracks in the pavement, switches to pointing out a weirdly shaped cloud and how blue the sky is, and then she talks about a poem she’s having trouble with finishing.

“You write poems?” he questions, thinking that it’s strangely fitting for the girl who dresses in paint splattered overalls and leaves flowers on his doorstep to also write poetry.

(Y/n) hums in confirmation. “I prefer painting over writing poetry, but it all depends on what I feel like is the best way to put down what I’m feeling. I might just have a good cry or something.”

He shrugs off what he knows will put him in a conversational bust, and focuses on what he knows instead. “Do you sketch?”

“Occasionally, yes,” she nods. “I don’t always have the patience for it, but there’s something strangely soothing about sketching and shading.”

Steve nods, because of course he knows exactly what she’s talking about. That’s all he can do to cope somedays. “I find it relaxing,” he inputs.

Eyebrows rising, she turns to him in interest. “You draw, Mr. Steve?”

Smiling slightly, he opens the door to the establishment she stops in front of her, gesturing for her to go in first before following behind her. “I went to art school for a while, too.”

He says this with a hollow smile, and he thinks she notices because she’s quick to point out all the flavors, tossing in some recommendations since she’s apparently a frequent visitor.

Of course, Steve has considered and imagined what would’ve happened if he had just stayed at art school and gotten his degree. But he never dwells for too long on that thought, knowing that nothing good would come out of falling down that rabbit hole.

Instead, he distracts himself with choosing and paying for the ice-cream, following behind (Y/n) as she leads them to a table off to the side, settling in across from her.

“I think we’re lucky that you didn’t stick around art school,” she muses out loud around a spoonful of her desert. When he raises an eyebrow, she continues, “I mean, you did help in saving everyone’s asses in New York, and even before that, you helped so many people as Captain America. Although, I understand that it’s probably awful being so far from when you knew home. And maybe sometimes you think of personal losses rather than stick to a ‘greater good’ mentality.”

(Y/n) pauses, watching him carefully, her usual tranquil stare sharpening with something that he dazedly thinks might be concern. She waits, presumably, for him to respond, but he stays silent and only stares back at the girl who turns out to be surprisingly pensive.

Eventually, she shrugs, looking away from him. “Every decision has some effect further down the timeline,” she states rather philosophically, “and yours wouldn’t be exempt from that. Perhaps if you’d stuck around art school, you wouldn’t be stuck in the 21st century now, but you also probably wouldn’t have met all the people you did after joining the army.”

Peggy, he thinks immediately, and Howard, and Dr. Erskine, and the Howling Commandos.

So, maybe he is glad for the choices he made. And maybe this is his weight to carry, but at least he’s had his time with them if not more, like he wants.

(Y/n) smiles at him like she knows he’s reached this conclusion, and Steve lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head as he does so.

“You’re good at reading people, aren’t you, kid?” He raises his eyebrows, smiling at the quirky teen across from him.

Her smile widens a little, and he realizes that she’s pleased with this observation. “I like people,” she supplies with a small shrug. “Everyone’s rather interesting, and it’s always fun trying to figure them out.”

“Is it?” he questions, thinking back to Natasha and how she does the same, although probably not for the fun of it.

“I still find it a little hard,” she admits, eyebrows furrowing for a moment. “I think it requires a lot of empathy, and it’s hard to see things from someone else’s point of view sometimes, but it helps me fit in better.” Her gaze lifts to his, and her lips twitch up. “You were quite easy to read though.”

He wonders if he should be offended by that, but then dismisses it quickly. Steve has never been all that great with reading people and he admits he doesn’t quite understand the process, so he decides to save himself the headache and just accepts her words without a thought.

Later, when they’re walking back home, (Y/n) bends over and plucks a daisy growing through a crack in the pavement.

For some reason, she laughs and then she hands it to him.

“Purity and innocence,” she tells him softly before shaking her head. “But I think it’s lovely how things find a way to grow just about anywhere and through anything. Don’t you, Mr. Steve?”

 _She’s referring to me,_ he thinks absently, examining the small, white-petaled flower in his hold. And he smiles at her when he realizes that’s what she hopes for him.

(Y/n) wants for him to grow past every tragedy of his, and Steve thinks that it’s rare for someone to simply want so much good for someone else, and it’s perplexing that this sunshine girl is trying so hard to brighten his rainy skies, but he manages to nod at her, resulting in her expression morphing into one of satisfaction.

“You’re right,” he agrees quietly. “It is lovely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daisy: The most accepted meaning of daisy is simplicity, purity, and innocence.


	4. (3/10)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peruvian Lily: Alstroemerias or Peruvian lilies are symbols of devotion and friendship, and are often used as tokens of good luck and companionship.

**Peruvian Lilies**

Without his quite realizing it, (Y/n) ends up worming her way into his life until she becomes a regular face and he doesn’t question her presence anymore.

It’s a welcome change, as far as Steve is concerned. He’d much rather spend time with her rather than at S.H.I.E.L.D with its cold hallways and cold people and cold secrets.

And maybe he’s a little starved for the kind of positive human interaction she brings with her, but (Y/n)’s indulgent and has enough free time to spare some for him, and he thinks she’s aware of much he needs her company.

Most days, he doesn’t say much. Steve prefers to listen because he’s usually unsure of what to say, but (Y/n) doesn’t seem to mind.

She shows up at his door the day after they get ice-cream, with a tray of cupcakes and a bouquet of Peruvian lilies, claiming that she needs someone try her cupcakes and Steve is the only one around.

Following that first time, she just takes the liberty to show up when she knows he’s at home and proceeds to drag him to wherever catches her fancy. When Steve’s tired after a mission, she doesn’t push and lets him rest alone if asks for it, or chooses to keep him company as long as he’s okay with it.

The thing that makes her so easy to be around is that even though she doesn’t always seem like it, (Y/n) is always very mindful of his boundaries and it lets him know that she respects his wishes.

So, when Steve doesn’t always instigate conversation, she begins instead.

In the three weeks he spends with her, Steve learns that she’s seventeen and is going to be a senior at a specialized school in NYC called Midtown School of Science and Technology. She wants to go into forensic science when she’s older. She likes lemon-scented things and her favorite color is yellow. She likes art, but doesn’t think she can make a career out of it because she isn’t _that_ creative.

He learns that she lives with her dad, but during the summers, she comes out to DC and stays with her aunt because it gives him the chance to take up overseas work trips without worrying about her and also gives him a break because raising a child alone is twice as stressful.

She tells him that her mom and aunt used to run a flower shop together, and after (Y/n) lost her mother in a car accident, she ended up obsessively learning all about the language of flowers to make herself feel closer to her mother.

Steve hears all about a boy name Peter Parker and his aunt, May, who (Y/n)’s grown close to because (Y/n)’s father and May are colleagues and Peter’s practically her brother. He smiles because it reminds him of himself and Bucky, with Peter taking his place as the scrawny kid who always manages to find trouble and (Y/n) filling in for Bucky as the older of the two who ends up having to pull him out of the said trouble.

(Y/n) talks to him about whatever catches her fancy, from outer space to funny stories about teachers they’ve had.

And Steve listens to everything she has to say about her world and beyond, clinging to every word and smiling at every story and feeling warm because this young thing that’s bursting with her youth and brimming with light has made it clear that Steve is a part of her world as well.

“Just wait till I tell my friends at school that I hung out with Captain America,” she tells him with a grin when they’re both in his living room on a lazy evening, with him taking up the couch and her sitting by his coffee table, a notebook of doodles left open in front of her.

“Do you have a lot of friends?” he asks, oddly worried because even if she is an absolutely wonderful young woman, (Y/n) is considerably eccentric, and Steve knows all too well how mean kids can be.

If she admits to getting bullied, Steve decides that he’ll personally head on down to New York and ensure that no one so much as breathes an insult in her direction because (Y/n)’s golden and is genuinely so good that within three weeks, he’s convinced that she deserves everything good in the world.

But (Y/n) brightens immediately, smiling as she nods. “I do, actually. Well, not a lot, but still quite a few people who I know will help me out when I need them to. I generally get along well with most people at school, though.”

And then she relays a story about how she ended up giving flowers to her middle school bully on the latter’s birthday and ended up getting immunity till she graduates high school basically.

(Y/n)’s an interesting girl, that’s for sure.

Even in their quiet moments, somehow simply having her around eases the strain on his shoulders and the weariness in his muscles.

She likes milk tea, she mentions when he asks her that very first afternoon she drops by with cupcakes.

Her usually dreamy gaze is busy taking in the apartment, resting on the older things for a moment before flitting over to something else, and she laughs when she notices all the flowers he’s got dotting the place.

“You’ll be surprised to know how many people I’ve gotten to know thanks to flowers,” she tells him as she passes him his new bouquet before drifting over to his bookshelf and leaving him to hunt down a container for her present.

Steve pauses, picking out the white card hiding within the orange petals, and he feels himself smile more genuinely than he’s done for quite a while now because (Y/n) (L/n) has decided that Steve Rogers is her friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peruvian Lily: Alstroemerias or Peruvian lilies are symbols of devotion and friendship, and are often used as tokens of good luck and companionship.


	5. (4/10)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tulip: White- Exhibit remembrance and respect.
> 
> Orange- Represent warmth, happiness, and mutual understanding.
> 
> Blue- Display trust.
> 
> Pink- Display care and attachment, and are used to offer best wishes.

** Tulips **

Steve knows that it’s laughably easy to get information on people in this generation, especially when they have a Wikipedia page, so he shouldn’t be surprised when (Y/n) shows up at his doorstep on the 4th of July, armed with a bright smile, a bouquet and balloons, and sings ‘Happy Birthday’ to him.

He’s a little embarrassed because he isn’t used to being presented with balloons and a song and the like, but he’s mostly flattered that his young friend actually took the time to find out his birthday and is there to wish him with the biggest smile he’s seen on her.

“Thank you,” he says as earnestly as he possibly can, unsure of what to do, and she probably senses that because (Y/n) laughs and hands him his bouquet and balloons.

He realizes that she’s balancing a small box in her hands as well, and once she’s inside and the box is placed on his coffee table, she opens it to reveal a small cake.

Something in him bubbles up his chest, and Steve finds it hard to breathe for a moment because his heart squeezes strangely. He frets, hoping he doesn’t start to cry and then proceeds to thank (Y/n) profusely, telling her that she didn’t have to do any of this.

“Turning 96 is a pretty big deal, though,” she argues, batting her eyes at him innocently when he narrows his own, and he doesn’t push it any further.

Instead, they cut the chocolate cake and she insists on a picture before revealing that she has one last surprise for him.

“I’m sure you’d rather spend the holiday with your aunt, (Y/n),” he tries to protest, but she shakes her head.

“My aunt has a date tonight,” she reveals with a conspiratorial grin. “A picnic by the river with a view of the fireworks.”

Waving away every other excuse, she asks him to dress nicely before they head out to wherever she’s planned for them to go. He complies, putting on his dark blue dress shirt because he did notice that (Y/n) was dressed up quite nicely as well in a navy-blue dress of her own.

And then she’s dragging him along the crowded streets, through the throngs of people milling about for the national holiday, and it’s a lot nicer outside even if it’s way too hot.

They end up at a quaint, out-of-the-way bar, where the noise is a little further away and he can hear faint music thumping from within the establishment. Steve freezes, the upbeat music making his stomach lurch because it’s so familiar but it feels like a faraway dream, and he turns to (Y/n) with wide eyes only to find her smiling at him.

The same, strange little smile that was a little sad and looked unnatural on a face he was used to equating with joy.

She gently tugs at his elbow, pulling him in with a faint, “Come on”, and Steve is hit with so much nostalgia, he wants to bend over and maybe cry.

(Y/n)’s a little nervous, he realizes, when her hand tightens around his arm and she marches them across to an empty table to the side. “I read about a bunch of people meeting up today for a swing night, and I thought you’d enjoy something familiar,” she explains before pausing abruptly, turning to him with unbidden concern in her wide eyes. “We can leave if you’re uncomfortable, of course. I didn’t even think-“

He cuts her off by pulling the smaller girl in for a hug, holding her carefully, his inexperience shining through in the hesitance of his movements, but it’s all he can really think of doing right now.

For a moment, she stills in surprise, but then she’s smiling and he can tell by the way she relaxes and briefly wraps her arms around his waist before pulling away and laughing, telling him to at least get seated before he starts getting emotional.

Neither of them knows how to swing, since neither ever got to learning, so they mostly watch the other dancers. Periodically, the music switches between slower, smoother jazz and upbeat dance music, but all of it is close to what he used to know, and Steve loses himself in the music and colors and laughter.

There are a bunch of older people who he assumes are war veterans, and he swallows thickly as he watches them. The others are younger- enthusiasts of dancing or music, and some of them who’ve simply come in looking for somewhere to be for the night.

He’s reminded of a missed date and an attempted joke about stepping on toes, and he turns to his side, thinking for a confused moment that he might find Peggy because he’s dreamed this up so many times now and it all goes one way.

But he finds another girl; a golden girl with dreamy eyes and a kind, kind heart who picks up flowers growing through asphalt and tells him that they remind her of him, and Steve doesn’t feel disappointed.

Yes, he wakes up from dreams of loud music and swirling skirts wishing that he could’ve been there with Peggy Carter, but right now, he’s pretty happy to be with a 21st century teenager at a bar somewhere on the 4th of July.

This is his life now, and he knows that. And there are some things he still has that are worth waking up to reality for.

So, he clears his throat for her attention and nods meaningfully at the dance floor where people are milling about for a slower song.

“Would you like to dance?”

(Y/n) grins at him- a megawatt smile that’s so simply happy that he’s stunned for a moment because he forgets that the youth of this generation is learning how to hope and heal and survive and it’s something beautifully unfamiliar.

They make their way to the dance floor, earning a few glances along the way because Steve is a big guy and (Y/n)’s obviously younger, but nobody really cares enough to ask and so the pair end up finding themselves a place and they just sway in time with the music.

Evidently, neither knows just how the whole dancing thing works, and they’re stiff at first until (Y/n) snorts abruptly and he asks if he’s that bad and they laugh until they forget they’re actually supposed to be dancing.

It’s okay, though. No one cares, and Steve is beyond happy just then- perfectly content to just sway with her. They make it work with their heights and lack of knowledge.

He doesn’t step on her toes like he thought he would.

An older couple nearby asks if they’re siblings, and before he can respond, (Y/n) tells them that yes, he’s her brother, and they don’t question it. The older woman proceeds to coo at them for being so sweet with each other, and they end up trading partners for the next song.

When it starts nearing half past ten, Steve decides that they should leave, and (Y/n) doesn’t argue as she wordlessly slips her shoes back on, which she’d removed when her feet started getting sweaty from the dancing.

“You didn’t tell me what today’s bouquet meant,” he brings up on their way back home.

(Y/n) glances at him thoughtfully, absently pushing her hair back. “Tulips,” she recalls. “White, orange, blue, and pink. Respect, happiness, trust, and best wishes,” she adds briefly.

They fall silent for a moment while he thinks of what to say.

“Happy birthday, Steve,” she says softly, smiling as she looks at him from the corner of her eye.

He chuckles, putting an arm around her shoulders and ruffling her hair like Bucky used to do with him, eliciting a laugh and fake protest.

“Thanks, (Y/n).”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tulip: White- Exhibit remembrance and respect.
> 
> Orange- Represent warmth, happiness, and mutual understanding.
> 
> Blue- Display trust.
> 
> Pink- Display care and attachment, and are used to offer best wishes.


	6. (5/10)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrysanthemum: Chrysanthemums symbolize concepts like lasting friendship, support from loved ones, cheerfulness and good spirits, recovery after a challenge, and platonic affection.

** Chrysanthemums **

It is mid-July when (Y/n) meets Sam Wilson for the first time.

The sun is blazing down even though it’s nine in the morning, and honestly, she thinks it horrible weather to be out running of all things, but there Steve is- running so easily that she feels jealous from her spot in the shade of a tree.

His athleticism makes her nauseous, she decides, watching him speed past with an envious glare, her mind running horrible flashbacks of the pacer test and physical diagnostic tests.

(Y/n) thinks she’s okay at sports, but looking at Steve is making her want to tuck herself into a ball and roll right into the lake.

On the bright side, at least she’s not the guy who was trying to keep up with Steve, but now, is just struggling along behind the blond, looking like he wants to just keel over and die.

She’s tempted to go and offer for him to join her in rolling into the lake, but she doesn’t know this man beyond the fact that he’s apparently Steve’s friend, so she refrains and waits in her shady spot instead.

Steve offered to treat her out to breakfast for the day, and (Y/n) likes being on time, so she finds herself at the park a little earlier than planned. He’s noticed her, she’s sure, but he was too busy making the other guy feel miserable to stop and greet her properly.

(Y/n) isn’t offended. She doesn’t get insulted too easily, and she’s a little preoccupied with feeling pity for the guy who decided to take Captain America on in running.

Now, after finishing his lap and ensuring that his friend is still breathing, Steve crosses over to her, his running buddy in tow.

She stands up, and instead of saying hi to Steve, tosses her water bottle to the other guy. “You’re a true hero,” she tells him seriously, and he looks confused but takes the compliment and bottle anyways, proceeding to empty half of its contents in one, large gulp.

She’s impressed.

“Good morning to you, too,” Steve speaks up, evidently amused.

(Y/n) turns to him seriously. “I never want to see you run again,” she informs blankly, making his eyebrows rise. “I got tired just watching you.”

“You have no idea,” Steve’s friend wheezed from behind the blond. “I’m Sam, by the way.”

“Hi,” she waves, taking back her bottle and tossing it back into her tote bag. “I’m (Y/n).”

Sam looks openly curious about what she’s doing there, but he holds back from asking because he doesn’t want things to get weird. What if she turned out to be an alien or something? He doesn’t need that in his life- Sam likes being a regular guy, and (Y/n) looks like she could be an alien with how detached and simultaneously aware she seemed.

“She’s my neighbor,” Steve supplies, and Sam accepts that without any questions because it sounds relatively normal.

(Y/n) turns to Steve, impressed and curious at the same time. “I didn’t know you had other friends.”

Sam snorts loudly, because he was thinking the same thing. “Can’t blame her, man.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve sighs heavily. “I had a feeling my life would get much more difficult if you both met,” he says, looking between them wearily while they turn to him in exaggerated offense.

“Hey, I just _ran_ with you,” Sam protests. “You know who else would do that? Nobody.”

“I give you flowers every day,” (Y/n) adds, frowning disapprovingly. “I deserve some recognition here. I’m a nice person!”

“You tell him, (Y/n).”

And somehow, Steve saw this coming even before he thought of Sam meeting (Y/n). Recently, (Y/n) has relaxed much more around him, easing into a more playful demeanor now that she knows Steve well enough to understand which buttons not to push.

And Sam is…well, Sam.

Just as he predicted, they gang up on him, and suddenly the both are discussing how ungrateful Steve is, and he’s left standing and watching as Sam’s grin widens by the second.

(Y/n)’s a likeable kid. It isn’t hard to tell that it’s only a matter of time before she grows on Sam, and Steve has a feeling that Sam realizes this as well.

So, Steve smiles slightly, deciding that he likes the idea of his two genuine friends bonding. “Why don’t you join us for breakfast?” he suggests, directing the question at Sam.

The teen turns to the man in question as well, eyes bright and smile welcoming as she nods enthusiastically because Sam is very easy to be around and he seems like an awesome guy, and she has a can of pepper spray on her at all times, so she feels pretty set.

Faced with two human puppies, Sam is defeated before he can even consider denying. With their combined powers, he’s sure that Steve and (Y/n) could take over the world and probably start the apocalypse.

So, he sighs and gives his consent, grinning when the girl excitedly begins telling them about a café they could go to where the food is to die for and she knows the owners’ son so they might even get a discount.

They make an odd trio comprising of two sweaty men lingering a little behind a lively teenage girl, and some people do look twice their way in trying to figure out what is happening, but Steve looks used to it and Sam thinks it a little funny.

(Y/n) doesn’t really care. She’s too busy telling Sam about the old lady who flirted with Steve when they went out for his birthday.

“Oh, you ladies’ man, Rogers,” Sam snickers.

Crossing his arms, Steve looks away with a huff. “She was married, you know,” he tries, but (Y/n)’s grin widens and she nods happily.

“The best part was when the husband joined her in the flirting,” she reveals, delivering the killing blow, leaving Sam to laugh so hard she considers calling the ambulance because Sam is a dark-skinned man and it can’t be normal for him to look _this_ red.

But Steve doesn’t look particularly worried. He ignores his howling friend in favor of looking skywards and wondering what sins he must’ve committed in his previous lifetime to be suffering through (Y/n)’s storytelling now.

Still, this isn’t too bad. It’s not bad at all, in fact. Sure, they’re probably going to give him hell for the remainder of their time together, but it’s only friendly teasing and at least he’s not alone anymore.

And, as predicted, (Y/n) does end up growing on Sam for more than just her subtle but persistent teasing of Steve. Perhaps it’s because of how open she’s willing to be, trusting Sam simply because he’s Steve’s friend.

It’s hard to dislike someone with so much hope and faith and kindness, especially when they’re so open to the idea of giving all that kindness.

That isn’t to say that (Y/n) is naïve. Steve has heard her talk about lots of serious issues regarding the world as well. She spoke of children in Syria and of terrorism, telling him that war is less obvious now, but it hasn’t gone anywhere.

And he observes that she speaks wearily, like she’s tired and has finally accepted all that is wrong about the world she’s growing up in. When the planet is dying and the people are dying and it’s so easy to turn a blind eye until it’s too late.

“But it’s not like I can just…stop living on the planet, right?” she posed rhetorically, smile wry.

So, she resolves to hoping instead. Hoping that, maybe, with a new generation they can try to right some wrongs. It won’t be easy, but it will be a start.

“It’s a generation thing,” she told him once. The youngest demographic is learning to heal and to hope, and somehow, it’s a little bit easier to get through life when you believe that someday it will all be okay.

And maybe it’s that hope that ends up drawing people like Steve and Sam to her. People who’ve been hurt and screwed over by life. People who’ve had to build themselves from the ground up after being knocked down. People who sometimes wonder if it’s worth it to keep hoping.

Some could argue that it’s a part of growing up, but Steve prays that it isn’t because the world could do with a little more hope and he doesn’t want to see her brightness be snuffed out.

(Y/n) realizes that Sam is pretty easy to read as well. He doesn’t really bother hiding much, and she decides that she really likes him because of how easygoing he is.

He laughs easily and he makes witty quips, and he’s so comfortable with his own regularity that she finds it admirable almost.

It becomes clear to her very quickly why Steve chose to befriend him. He’s easy to be around and he’s well balanced. There’s an aura of calm energy around him that makes one feel safe, assured that he’s a friend.

She doesn’t mind inviting him to tag along when Steve states that he’ll walk her to her aunt’s flower shop for her shift.

 _The Wallflower’s Garden_ is something of a sanctuary for (Y/n). It’s bright and airy, and there’s something so lovely about being surrounded by flowers of all kinds and colors. The shop is usually quiet, and the customers are typically polite, if a little confused, and it smells wonderful.

And she knows that her mom once worked there, too, so that’s part of the reason why she’s so attached and protective of the place.

Oddly enough, however, she doesn’t mind Steve wanting to accompany her to the shop. And she’s surprisingly alright with inviting Sam.

Part of the reason why she’s probably so welcoming of Sam is probably because he’s clearly relatively important to Steve, on a more personal level than most people are. And maybe it’s strange since she’s considerably younger than the blond, but (Y/n) does feel the need to look out for him much as she does for 13-year-old Peter Parker.

Steve looked so lost and hurt the first time she ever saw him, and sometimes he still looks like that, but she can tell that he’s slowly getting better and brighter, and something tells her that Sam has helped him get there just a little bit faster than if (Y/n) did it alone.

So, with a small smile, she ushers both the males inside, sighing happily when the cool air hits her, courtesy of the air conditioner (truly a glorious invention).

While Sam is distracted by the cool temperature inside the establishment, Steve looks around the shop in interest, humming when (Y/n) tells him to wait for a moment before he leaves.

He’s almost pleased to notice that he actually recognizes some of the flowers and can distinctly recall what they symbolize.

“Here you go,” (Y/n) interrupts his train of thought, approaching him with a small bouquet of heavily petaled flowers- three white ones and two purple ones.

“Chrysanthemums,” Sam observes, eyebrows rising slightly because he’s a little puzzled as to why Steve is getting flowers.

(Y/n) hums, meeting Steve’s eyes meaningfully. “They symbolize platonic loyalty, and rest and recovery after a long trial.”

Because he’s finally healing and she’s proud of him, and if Steve smiles a little more widely on his way out, no one mentions it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chrysanthemum: Chrysanthemums symbolize concepts like lasting friendship, support from loved ones, cheerfulness and good spirits, recovery after a challenge, and platonic affection.


	7. (6/10)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladiolus: The gladiolus flower represents honor, strength of character, sincerity, and integrity. Traditional meanings of flower colors may be attributed to gladioli, wherein purple stands for charm, grace, and mysteriousness.

**Gladiolus**

When Steve first tells her that he’s met whoever has been leaving him flowers every day, Natasha admits that she’s a little curious, and a little suspicious.

She doesn’t think that Steve and her are friends by the most conventional standards, but he _is_ her teammate, and she does worry about him to some extent. This (Y/n) (L/n) character suddenly waltzing into his life and managing to grow so close to him sounded a little too good to be true, so if Natasha took it upon herself to dig up everything about the girl, she doesn’t think she can be blamed.

After all, if anyone knows about possibly deadly teenage girls with a talent for deception and enamoring men, it’s Natasha Romanoff.

So, she goes through all the info she can get her hands on about the girl. It gives her something to keep busy with, and Natasha enjoys poking her nose into Steve’s business more than she cares to admit.

But (L/n) checks out as a legitimately nice kid, who actually attends at Midtown School of Science and Technology and isn’t just some coverup story to fool Steve when he’s emotionally vulnerable. She turns out to be just another regular teenager, if a little eccentric from what Natasha manages to gather.

The suspicion now gone, she’s left with a general curiosity because Steve is a nice guy, sure, but he doesn’t open up all that easily and yet, somehow, this 16-year-old has managed to forge a bond with the super-soldier that Natasha doesn’t understand.

Naturally, the moment she gets a chance to meet (Y/n) (L/n), she jumps on it and heads out to see just what makes the girl so special.

 _Purely out of curiosity,_ she tells herself.

It isn’t every day that a regular teenager just manages to wrap the First Avenger around her pinkie finger.

Fury tells her that she has a mission with the super-soldier, regarding Hydra, some intel, and a hostage situation. Thankfully, he doesn’t care when she volunteers to inform Steve and pick him up.

That’s how she finds herself standing in front of _The Wallflower’s Garden_ nearly thirty minutes later, smirking to herself for a moment before entering because she doubts Steve’s going to be very pleased about her snooping around his personal life.

Natasha finds the girl instantly, watching as the latter looks up from a notebook on the counter that she was hunched over, her unfocused gaze landing on Natasha a little belatedly.

Nevertheless, (Y/n) smiles pleasantly- the kind of smile that makes her look like she’s lost in a daydream- and greets Natasha politely. “Hello. How may I help you?”

The redhead knows how to play up the nice lady act, and she smiles mechanically as she nears the counter, mentally debating an answer. “I’m here to pick up a fossil,” she decides eventually, amused with herself even as she watches the girl’s reaction to he words.

(Y/n) doesn’t really look confused. Her smile only shifts to a more gleeful one that suggests she’s just as amused as Natasha is. “Are you looking for Steve?” she asks, grinning.

For a moment, Natasha’s thrown off by the youthful mischief that settles across the girl’s features because she isn’t used to such open expressions, and especially not used to the face of an innocent.

But she catches herself before it can show and nods instead. “I’m his colleague,” she explains.

The girl wrinkles her nose at this, studying Natasha’s face for a quick second before sighing. When Natasha raises an eyebrow at her, she shakes her head.

“It’s just that, well, the Avengers are technically Steve’s colleagues, too, right? And so, by extension, you’re either on the team or a colleague of theirs. But, they’re so kickass that when you use a boring term like ‘colleague’, it just sounds wrong,” (Y/n) reasons out loud before pausing and frowning to herself. “That made more sense in my head,” she adds quietly, shrugging at Natasha in a more or less unapologetic fashion that has her snorting.

“So, you like the Avengers?” Natasha isn’t surprised by this, really. (Y/n) is a teen after all, and most of the young people are in support of the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.

In response, the girl tilts her head. “I do,” she confirms. “I mean, they did save all of Manhattan and it’s hard to dislike them when I know they saved my life.”

Natasha considers the reply and nods. “Do you have a favorite?”

“Black Widow,” (Y/n) answers instantly, and Natasha goes on high alert for a moment until she notices the childlike glee on the younger’s face. “In all the videos that were there on the Internet before they got removed, she just looked very fierce, and maybe I’m biased because she’s a woman, but I just find her very cool.”

If Natasha’s secretly pleased about this, or flattered, she doesn’t let it show.

It’s natural, she decides, to feel like that. Her work isn’t usually of the nature that deserves praise in the sense (Y/n) is gushing, and maybe having a teenage girl talk about her so excitedly is a nice change that Natasha doesn’t mind at all.

She doesn’t consider herself a hero. Not really. But the smile on (Y/n)’s face makes her think that she isn’t so bad, and maybe that’s why Steve sticks around the girl so much.

“I also really like the Hulk,” (Y/n) continues. “He _is_ destructive, and I get why one would be skeptical about him being considered an Avenger, but sometimes you just feel like a nice smash is a good answer to anything.”

Natasha finds herself quite amused by this girl and her lack of inhibitions with casually conversing with a total stranger, and she figures that she may as well indulge the teen. “Not a lot of people are of that opinion.”

“I know,” the girl nods. “That’s okay, though. I’m not looking for anyone to validate my likes and dislikes. I will admit, though, that I also just really admire Dr. Banner’s research.”

“You’ve read it?” The surprise is a given because Natasha’s not half bad at science and she knows just how high level that research is.

“Some of it,” (Y/n) confesses. “I don’t understand a lot of the more high-level terms so I have to research them and I got lazy, but he’s admirably intelligent and I think a lot of people are set on forgetting that about him, just to see nothing beyond the Hulk.”

The redhead holds her breath, nodding stiffly before she exhales slowly, evening her breath. “It’s good of you to think that way,” she says, her voice softer than it was before. “I’m pretty sure Dr. Banner would appreciate that.”

And it hits her that _this_ is why Steve sticks around. Because (Y/n) knows of the bad in the world- Natasha’s gathered that much- but she still chooses to see the good, and in their line of work, you don’t meet a lot of people like that. The kind of people who dare to hope.

Thor would get along nicely with (Y/n), her mind concludes absently.

(Y/n) hums, smiling in a distracted sort of way. “I think I’d like to give him flowers one day,” she tells Natasha, and then she laughs because it’s a childish thought even if she does mean it.

Natasha can only smile back, wondering what Bruce would have to say to that and deciding that (Y/n) (L/n) is a genuinely good kid who is going to grow up to be one hell of an adult. And if the girl keeps in touch with Steve long enough for that to happen, Natasha might just ask about her every once in a while.

Before either of them can say anything more, the bell above the door chimes, announcing Steve’s entrance to both the females inside the shop.

He’s holding a bag from a convenience store, opening his mouth to say something, but he catches sight of Natasha and falls silent, staring at her blankly instead.

The redhead clears her throat, putting on her usual teasing smile before Steve can process anything. “We’re being called in. Briefing’s in twenty minutes, so you might want to hurry up.”

Steve nods slowly, eyes shifting to (Y/n) who cheerfully waves at him.

“Did you get my yoghurt?” she asks him, completely unbothered by his obvious confusion.

He nods again, crossing over to the counter and placing the bag on it, only for her to immediately place it down on her side of the counter, smiling pleasantly at Steve.

“Let’s go,” he mutters to Natasha, turning to say goodbye to (Y/n), but stopping when she hops off her stool and quickly searches through the aisles of flowers instead. He doesn’t need to be told to know that the girl wants them to wait for a moment, but he’s confused because she’s already given him flowers for the day- a yellow gladiolus, which he attributes to her fondness of presenting him with yellow flowers.

That is until his gaze lands on Natasha and it clicks in his mind, leaving him to smile slightly at (Y/n) when she nears them again, holding a single, purple gladiolus which she hands to Natasha.

The woman accepts it, glancing up at (Y/n) questioningly, like she’s making sure it’s meant for her.

“A gladiolus typically symbolizes strength in character, but a purple one in particular represents charm, grace, and mysteriousness,” (Y/n) recites, rounding the counter and plopping back down on her stool, turning to them with a cheerful smile. “You guys probably have to go now, right? Have a nice day.”

Natasha mechanically nods while Steve bids (Y/n) a goodbye, ruffling her hair before they exit the shop and enter the car that Natasha brought with her.

Later, when Steve finds her twirling the flower between her thumb and index finger, he pretends not to notice the faint but genuine smile on Natasha’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gladiolus: The gladiolus flower represents honor, strength of character, sincerity, and integrity. Traditional meanings of flower colors may be attributed to gladioli, wherein purple stands for charm, grace, and mysteriousness.


	8. (7/10)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunflower: Sunflowers are known to represent a variety of things, such as: long life, adoration and platonic love, loyalty, positivity, nourishment, and good luck.

** Sunflowers **

Following the attack on Fury, Steve doesn’t see (Y/n) for a week and a half.

Between S.H.I.E.L.D getting compromised, Fury’s getting attacked, becoming a fugitive and having to go on the run, chasing after the Winter Soldier only to find out that it’s really Bucky who’s behind that mask, sabotaging the Hellicarriers, and then leaking all of S.H.I.E.L.D’s intel onto the Internet, he doesn’t think he can be blamed for not being able to contact his younger friend.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think of her during the long run of his ‘mission’. Steve misses the peace of her presence and the scent of flowers following him everywhere throughout the time he’s on the run from S.H.I.E.L.D.

And when he catches sight of her name being included in the list of individuals who pose a threat to Hydra- also the list of people Hydra means to eliminate- Steve flies into a flurry of desperation, the idea of a satellite-guided gun trained on her fueling his need to put Hydra’s plan to an end.

He does it for the world- for Tony, for Peter Parker, for every other person whose life was being threatened- but he goes the extra mile for (Y/n), and Steve feels a strange kind of weight knowing that he has people he wants to protect for reasons other than just basic morals.

When he comes back to the apartment, however, dropping by to get his belongings before his move to Stark Tower (as per Tony’s insistence) and to tell (Y/n) that they’ll meet up in New York now, Steve is reminded by her aunt that it’s September 4th now and that (Y/n)’s already gone home in the time of his absence.

It hits him that New York is by no means small and he doesn’t have any of (Y/n)’s contact information, and there’s no way her aunt would just give it to him because that’s weird and dangerous, and Steve feels strangely hollow at the thought of never seeing her again.

He imagines never getting flowers from her again, and thinks about spending days without an eccentric girl to tease him and take him dancing, and Steve decides that he doesn’t like it.

There are too many people who’ve walked out of his life without him being able to have a say about it. And now, with seeing and losing Bucky all over again, he thinks he needs (Y/n)’s constant friendship more than ever.

So, he hardens his resolve and awkwardly approaches Tony because they may not always get along, but he knows that he can rely on Tony. Also, the latter is undeniably a wizard with technology and if there’s anyone he can trust to find (Y/n), it’s Tony Stark.

To his credit, Tony doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He’s a little surprised when Steve explains that (Y/n)’s a high-schooler he managed to befriend over her summer break, but Tony doesn’t push it, and Steve’s grateful for the man’s discretion.

Finding (Y/n) was easy, according to Tony, who also took the liberty to look through the girl’s available info because he may have complied with Steve’s request but he’s always been a nosy bastard. So, he’s curious- it’s not like anyone can afford to sue him.

And Tony’s unsure of how the Captain actually became friends with (Y/n) (L/n)- a relatively above average student at a specialized science school in NYC- but he doesn’t ask when he gives Steve the girl’s address.

In the meantime, (Y/n) determinedly works to not linger on her disappointment over Steve’s apparent disappearance. She doesn’t feel hurt- she knows he’d give some sign if he planned it- but she is upset that she didn’t even get to say goodbye to the man.

She wonders how he’s holding up after the disbanding of S.H.I.E.L.D. (Y/n) follows the news about the organization quite closely out of personal interest.

(She’s still reeling about the fact that she gushed about Black Widow in front of the woman herself and then gave her a gladiolus.)

But she knows better than to wallow in that disappointment. So, she goes to school and she tries to listen in class, she hangs out with the friends she hasn’t seen and everyone’s already lamenting about senior year kicking their asses, and she takes Peter to the park where they both fail miserably at skateboarding and resolve to hiding away for the rest of their lives.

“That was awful,” Peter whines, voice muffled as he buries his face in his hands. “I thought I had it!”

She pats his head sympathetically, wincing slightly when a brief sting shoots through her knee. “At least you didn’t nearly fall into the fountain,” she consoles a little resentfully, shuddering at the memory of what she insists was a near-death experience.

Peter turns to look at her with concern in is wide, brown eyes. “Are you okay?” he asks again, and she chuckles.

“I’m fine, Pete,” she assures, smiling. “It’s just a scratch.”

Sighing, the 13-year-old buy glares at the board he’s holding under his arm. “We should burn these things,” he suggests with a scowl that doesn’t sit well with his boyish features.

“I think I’ll keep mine, actually,” (Y/n) muses. “For the aesthetic, you know.”

Peter looks at her like she’s insane, opening his mouth to say something but falling short when he catches sight of the tall, blond man waiting outside (Y/n)’s apartment, a bouquet of several sunflowers wrapped in brown paper in his arms.

“Steve,” (Y/n) says, blinking in surprise before a wide smile breaks out on her face and she barrels into the man with a breathless laugh. “What are you doing here?”

The man- Steve- grins just as wide, ruffling her hair fondly once she’s pulled away. “I asked Tony to find out your address,” he admits, flushing because it makes him sound like a stalker, and (Y/n) snorts.

“Sunflowers?” she asks instead, eyes landing on the bright yellow flowers, her lips curling upwards when she remembers what they represent.

Steve hums, looking from the flowers to the girl, and smiling slightly. “I had to look up a bunch of flower meanings until I decided on them,” he informs, passing the flowers over to her. “I thought it’s about time I gave you some since I’m the one always receiving.”

(Y/n) chuckles, her eyes still fixed on the bouquet in her hold. “Thank you.”

* * *

** Bonus: **

Peter Parker frowns at the blond who’s immersed in conversation with a grinning (Y/n). The man looks so familiar…

And then it hits him.

“Holy cheese, you’re Captain America!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunflower: Sunflowers are known to represent a variety of things, such as: long life, adoration and platonic love, loyalty, positivity, nourishment, and good luck.


	9. (8/10)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dahlia: The dahlia symbolizes staying graceful and kind under pressure, drawing upon inner strength, following your own unique path and standing out, finding a balance, and commitment.

** Dahlia **

The first time Steve sees (Y/n) cry, he’s struck by how much he’s really grown to care for the girl over a period of just four months and how much he’s prepared to do to see her smile.

Since the beginning of her new academic year, (Y/n) can’t make as much time to see him as a consequence of her increasing workload, and Steve feels her absence in his boredom and increased alone time.

It’s different from a few months ago, though. 

Now, he isn’t lonely even when he is alone. The Avengers’ Tower (as it has been dubbed now) is too large for just the six of them (including Pepper Potts), but somehow, it doesn’t feel empty. There’s always something going on with one of them that ends up with all of them being dragged in, too.

Even when everyone else is occupied, Steve works on taking better care of himself.

He tries out new recipes, or he attempts to recreate the things he liked eating back in the 40s. He reads anything that catches his fancy, and makes use of J.A.R.V. I. S’s extensive music selection. Steve sketches and paints, and allows himself to indulge in these little wants that make all the difference to him until he genuinely begins to think that he’s okay.

Yes, Bucky’s still out there somewhere, and it’s killing Steve to know that his best friend is alive and hurting and just out of his reach, but Tony’s assured him that his AIs are on the lookout for Barnes, and the blond knows there’s nothing more he can do but wait.

But waiting can be a herculean task all on its own, and when he begins running out of distraction, Steve misses his young companion more than ever.

Natasha pulls him aside one morning, right after breakfast when they’re discussing their plans for the day and he reveals that he’s meeting up with (Y/n), seriously asking him if he’s just using the girl as some sort of replacement for Bucky.

“Because she’s not him, Steve,” the redhead reminds him, her voice barely above a low whisper. “She’ll never be him, and she deserves better than to be looked at as a replacement. You know she does.”

“I know that,” he says faintly, eyes widened slightly as the thought hits him- what if he’s unconsciously been seeing her as a temporary Bucky? That’s unfair to (Y/n), and he’s crushed under guilt at the very prospect, so he quickly shakes his head, firmly telling himself that (Y/n) plays a very different and important role in his life.

For a moment, Natasha eyes him searchingly, and then she nods and steps back. “Alright,” she accepts. “Don’t forget it, though. I know you’re desperate to find Barnes, but don’t project that onto (Y/n).”

Steve doesn’t think he’d do that, but he reminds himself again, just in case.

(Y/n) is not Bucky.

He knows that. Of course, he does. And he doesn’t want her to be, either. Bucky is his childhood best friend; the most important constant throughout Steve’s life. (Y/n) is the girl who teaches him how to heal- the one who brings him flowers and leaves paint stains on his journal.

No one could ever fill in for Bucky, he thinks, smiling when he sees her approach him at the park they’re meeting at.

And no one could ever fill in for (Y/n), either.

“Hi, Steve.” He frowns at the tired smile she offers him, immediately taking notice of the bags under her eyes and drooping of her shoulders.

“Hey, kid,” he greets, reaching out to ruffle her hair and earning a bigger smile for his efforts.

They walk around the city for a while, and for once, Steve has to do most of the talking. He picks up on her subdued mood and tries to keep her distracted, talking about his sketches or the shenanigans Tony gets into.

He tells stories about each of the Avengers and mentions their quirks and mannerisms, trying for humor even though it’s far from being his forte. But talking has never been his strength, and he begins to struggle.

(Y/n)’s gaze looks vacant- detached from her surroundings as something different from her usually dreamy demeanor. She tries to keep up with him, responding and nodding along, but she looks lost. Like she’s about to float away and is barely tethered by a thread.

Finally, when they’re at the park, sitting on a bench in silence, Steve turns to her and hesitantly asks, “Are you okay?”

She blinks, turning to him with a blank expression and simply staring for a moment. And then, he’s left watching in mild panic as her eyes turn glassy and she begins blinking rapidly, a tear managing to slip past despite her efforts, quickly being followed by another until she’s properly crying.

Steve’s eyes widen, mind going blank while his companion chokes out an apology and wipes at her eyes.

 _Hug her,_ a voice that sounds disturbingly like Natasha hisses at him in his mind, and Steve complies instantly, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her as close as he can on the bench.

“Hey,” he whispers, rubbing her back, “what’s wrong, (Y/n)?”

She shakes her head against his shoulder, clinging to his jacket and burying her face in the material. “It’s stupid,” she manages through the struggle for breath, voice muffled and thick.

“Obviously not if it’s affecting you this much,” Steve argues.

Pulling away, she wipes at her tears furiously, blinking away the heaviness of her eyelids. “I don’t even know,” she begins after a moment of silence, letting out a breathy laugh in self-mockery. “It’s school, I guess. I’m having trouble keeping up with the speed of the lessons, and I just can’t focus in class so I miss a lot of what is being taught, and everything has just shot up in difficulty. I’m falling behind on my work, and I’ve done pretty badly in these tests so my dad’s disappointed, and nothing’s right, Steve. I just feel so…helpless and lost. And I really can't afford anything too bad on my report card if I want to be accepted into my university of choice, so I'm worried and I don't know what to do.”

She shakes her head again, burying her face in her hands and letting out a frustrated cry. “I’m sorry, you probably have better things to worry about than my academic struggles.”

“Worrying about you _is_ important, (Y/n).” Steve shakes his head, correcting himself, “ _You’re_ important. And it’s okay to talk to someone- to talk to me- about what’s bothering you.”

(Y/n) turns to him, eyes wide and glassy and so, so fragile that he thinks he might cry if he has to stare at her irises any longer.

“I don’t know much about the current education system,” he begins, “but I do know you. And I know that you’ll pull through. You’re a smart kid, (Y/n), and maybe I could ask Tony to help you out?”

So, yes, Steve has no idea of what he’s supposed to say. He doesn’t know (Y/n)’s usual grades, or what she’s learning at school. And he doubts he can help her study, so that’s no good. He ends up blurting out Tony’s name because the man’s smart and good at science related things, right?

(Y/n) blinks, and then she laughs, a little hoarse and broken after her crying, but a laugh nonetheless. “I don’t think I can have _the_ Tony Stark tutoring me in AP Physics,” she sniffs, braving a small smile, “but thanks anyways, Steve.”

“I’m sorry, it was the first thing I could think of,” he says sheepishly, but she shakes her head.

“It’s okay. I’ll figure it out eventually. I’m just really stressed out right now,” she sighs, turning to look at the sky and closing her eyes.

Steve exhales, watching her worriedly for a moment until his gaze lands on a red patch nearby and he’s hit by a silly idea. He gets up and walks closer to the patch of flowers, plucking one and walking back to where (Y/n) is staring at him curiously.

Smiling awkwardly, he extends it towards her and scratches the back of his head when she manages to smile at him in amusement through the red nose and eyes and blotchy face.

“A dahlia,” she notes, staring at the flower and then back up at him.

“I hope it means something happy,” he says, frowning dubiously.

She smiles at his uncertainty, nodding. “It does. Dahlias stand for drawing upon inner strength, finding balance, being unique, and commitment.”

He still feels a little useless for not really giving her any useful advice, but (Y/n) looks happier now at the very least. She still looks exhausted, and the bags under her eyes are even more prominent after her crying, but she’s smiling slightly and he knows she’ll be okay.

“You could’ve talked to me about this earlier, you know,” he brings up quietly, watching her twirl the stem of the crimson flower between her fingers.

Steve admits to himself of feeling guilty, realizing that he is so sadly unable to return the favor of (Y/n) always being there to pick him up.

A wry smile finds its place across her lips. “I’m not very good at sharing my problems,” she says after a moment, surprising him with her admission. “I’ve always dealt with my own shit. Besides, I wouldn’t have wanted to worry you with Mr. Bucky still being MIA.”

Pursing his lips, Steve pushes back the pang in his heart. “(Y/n), Bucky is my best friend, and I’ll admit that knowing he’s alive has had me very distracted, but that is no excuse. You are very, very important to me, and I don’t want to miss out on being your friend. Especially when you need someone to be there for you.”

She blinks blankly. Once. Twice. And then, she smiles, soft and warm. “Thanks, Steve. I really appreciate you saying that.”

“I mean it, (Y/n),” he presses. “Whenever you need a friend, I’ll be there.”

“I know,” she murmurs, eyeing the dahlia with a small smile and a warm heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dahlia: The dahlia symbolizes staying graceful and kind under pressure, drawing upon inner strength, following your own unique path and standing out, finding a balance, and commitment.


	10. (9/10)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily: Lilies symbolize motherhood and fertility, purity, renewal and rebirth, and sympathy. They have also come to symbolize that the soul of the departed has received restored innocence after death.

** Lilies **

When Steve first meets (Y/n)’s parents, he’s thrown for a loop on how to act.

The message from his young friend had been pretty straight-to-the-point in a very (Y/n)-like way.

_My dad wants to meet you. Are you free 1 pm this Saturday?_

He’d been free and let her know that he was available for lunch, and that was all she told him.

So, now, Steve is left standing in front of the (L/n)’s apartment door, uncomfortably fiddling with the collar of his shirt as he waits for the door to be opened. He can faintly make out a muffled conversation from within the apartment, the pounding of footsteps, and then the door is pulled open to reveal a pleasantly smiling (Y/n).

“Hey,” she greets, “you look nice.”

The compliment is due, Steve believes, recalling his crisis over his wardrobe that had ended in him asking for Natasha’s help and being laughed at by Clint. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know what to wear for a lunch with his teenage friend’s father.

“Thanks,” he grins, a little relieved. “You do, too.”

And she did. (Y/n) no longer looks like she is dead on her feet, and she has dressed in her favorite color- yellow, which Steve thinks oddly fitting.

She opens the door wider, stepping aside to let him into the decently spacious apartment. The décor is done in cool blues and warm browns and creams, and the walls are lined with picture frames and paintings. There are big windows opposite to the entrance door, filling the living room with natural light that is only hindered by thin, white curtains.

And, of course, he notices the subtle but recurring floral theme throughout the house.

He decides that he quite likes (Y/n)’s home.

“Hello,” a man speaks up, entering through the hallways to Steve’s left. “You must be Steve Rogers.”

Steve straightens, smiling politely as he shakes hands with the man he guesses is (Y/n)’s father. “Yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. (L/n).”

The man’s gaze is sharp and analytical- unlike his daughter’s save for a rare few moments- as he stares up at Steve for a tense second before smiling back. “You can just call me, (D/n), Steve.”

Steve is ushered further into the apartment and promptly seated on one of the large sofas, declining any drink other than a glass of water.

“So,” (D/n) begins conversationally, “Captain America, huh? I’ll admit, I found it pretty hard to believe when (Y/n) finally told me about her friendship with you. It’s not everyday a man finds out that his daughter’s been hanging out with a superhero.”

Flushing, Steve resists the urge to glare at (Y/n) when she shoots him a bemused smile as she hands him his requested glass of water before sitting down next to her father on the other sofa.

“He didn’t believe me at first,” (Y/n) informs, smiling unbothered.

(D/n) rolls his eyes, playing along. “I don’t think I can be blamed for this one, kiddo.”

She shrugs, nodding in a conceding manner at her father. “Touché.”

“And it’s still a little hard to digest even though you’re sitting in our living room,” (D/n) mentions, glancing at Steve carefully. “I need to know, Steve: will your lifestyle and job ever put my daughter’s safety at risk? As a father, it’s already difficult to accept my seventeen-year-old’s friendship with a man who is significantly older than her, but (Y/n) has vouched for your credibility and I want to trust her on this for now. But I need to know if at any point her connection to you could put her life at risk.”

Steve is left blank for a moment, processing the man’s words while both the (L/n)s look at him searchingly. He doesn’t know what to say.

He knows that he wants to deny it vehemently, but he’s aware that he can’t make any assumptions regarding the future, and so, he’s thoroughly stumped.

“I want to say no,” the blond replies honestly, “but I can’t say that for sure. What I can promise you is that I will do my absolute best to ensure that no harm befalls (Y/n) because of me, or in my presence. Your daughter has helped me move on from a tough point in my life, sir. In a way that no one else could manage. I owe (Y/n) my protection and promise.”

(D/n) stares at Steve with hard eyes, seemingly calculating and weighing the man’s words before finally nodding. “Alright,” he sighs. “I’ll accept that. Look out for my kid, Steve.”

“Will do, (D/n),” Steve nods, smiling slightly, trying not to make his relief too obvious.

(D/n) (L/n) could be one hell of an intimidating man.

And he doesn’t admit this, but a large part of Steve was afraid that (D/n) would disapprove because it’s perfectly understandable for a father to be wary of his daughter being friends with a grown man. He’s glad, however, that he gets to keep his favorite teen around.

“How sweet,” (Y/n) remarks, smiling pleasantly. “I feel like it’d be nicer if I wasn’t in the room.”

(D/n) snorts. “Get out of the room, then,” he snarks with a small grin that Steve recognizes as one he’s seen on (Y/n) as well.

Shrugging, the girl stands up, turning to Steve expectantly, only to receive a blank stare from the blond. “Come on,” she prompts, eyebrows rising. “You still have one more parent to meet, remember?”

He’s bewildered for a moment. His mind is thrown for a short loop because (Y/n)’s mom is dead and Steve knows this, until it hits him that the girl might be taking him to her mother’s grave, and then he’s strangely nervous all over again.

Steve’s always been particularly uneasy about cemeteries and funeral services and the like. Too many memories he’d like to not have to relive. Besides, he’s sure that most people aren’t too fond of graveyards.

But he doesn’t voice this; getting up instead to wordlessly follow (Y/n) deeper into the apartment rather than out the front door, once again finding himself confused.

“I’m not taking you to visit my mom’s grave,” she informed, tossing him a deadpan look as she pushes open the door to what he quickly realizes is her room. “That’d be weird. I mean, we’re close, but not _that_ close.”

Steve wisely decides not to respond to that, choosing to look around the room with interest instead.

The walls are painted a bright, lemon yellow, and the furniture is white, and the room is so bright and so seamlessly (Y/n) that Steve instantly likes it despite the colors not being what he would expect in a living space.

There is a canvas drying in one corner but it is facing away from him and he can’t tell what is painted on it. There are lots of other paintings dotting the room, however; accompanied by posters and photographs and sketches and maps. There are fairy-lights and a row of paper birds pasted to the walls, and despite how much is going on in the room, it all seems to fit in somehow.

While he’s distracted by the room, (Y/n) crosses over to where a door leads into a walk-in closet, waiting for his attention before waving him in.

The closet hasn’t been used as a wardrobe, as one would expect, but rather as a storage space for what he assumes are (Y/n)’s mother’s things. There’s a strange kind of calm in the small, square closet.

It’s the things, he thinks, that exude a calming kind of vibe. The unlit lilac scented candles in the corner. The box of botanical books. The row of printed dresses. The faint perfume lingering in the air. Photographs of a woman- some alone, some with what he’s seen of (Y/n)’s family. A carved jewelry box with a stack of letters next to it. And multiple watercolor paintings of flowers.

“They’re my mom’s,” (Y/n) provides, to fill the silence between them, her voice soft and wavering, and a small smile painted on her face. “It’s like you can still feel her in here. With all her things.”

And even though he’s unbelievably touched, Steve can’t help but feel just a little out of place here, surrounded by lilac and floral print. He feels like he’s trespassing in some sort of holy space.

Almost like she senses his faint discomfort, (Y/n) turns to him with a vague smile. “I like my mom to know all the important people in my life, even if she isn’t exactly around in person anymore,” she explains, shrugging. “So, when I feel like someone has become a pretty integral part of my life, I basically seal the deal by bringing them here. I feel like my mom has met them this way.”

He doesn’t say anything, but it makes sense to him now. And Steve is filled with a rush of warmth that hits him hard.

Because he has managed to establish such a pure friendship with this girl, and it’s a lot more _real_ knowing that she considers him important enough to let him into what is obviously a treasured place for her and her father.

It’s almost surreal to think that after all the things Steve has lived through- from super-soldier serums to being frozen for seventy years to aliens and to everything with Hydra- he has somehow also managed to establish such a domestic and mundane relation with this seventeen-year-old girl.

Sure, it’s pretty unconventional. And he’s sure their friendship is bound to raise more than a few eyebrows. But despite its oddities, their companionship is an untouched bright spot in his life that Steve wouldn’t trade in for anything.

Tony likes to joke that (Y/n) is the outlet for Steve’s rising paternal instincts, and maybe that’s true, but Steve doesn’t think he could be considered anywhere close to any sort of parental figure for a girl who knew more about how to live than Steve did.

He’s happy to be the ‘young uncle’, as (Y/n) had once commented jokingly.

Later, he asks about the painting in the corner of the room.

(Y/n) blinks at it, like she’d forgotten about it, before admitting that she’s planning on placing it in the closet with her mother’s belongings.

“What is it?” Steve asks curiously, watching her cross over to the easel and turn it to face him.

“Lilies,” (Y/n) answers, her smile a little sad. “They used to be my mom’s favorites.”

He decides not to push the topic any further, swiftly changing the topic instead. “I feel much better knowing that I’ve met your parents now,” he brings up truthfully, leaning back into her desk chair.

“My dad’s still a little iffy, but that’s a given,” she muses aloud. “You’re in the official clear, though, so congratulations.”

For a moment, he hesitates. “And your mom?” Steve asks quietly, watching her carefully for any sort of reaction.

(Y/n) only smiled wistfully. “I think she would’ve liked you very much, Steve.”

He smiles back. For the first time, he sees the mellow lilac in the brilliant yellow that (Y/n) seems to exude, and he wonders how he’s never noticed before. It’s a strange mix, and she’s a strange girl, but Steve thinks that he wouldn’t have her any other way.

“I’m glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lily: Lilies symbolize motherhood and fertility, purity, renewal and rebirth, and sympathy. They have also come to symbolize that the soul of the departed has received restored innocence after death.


	11. (10/10)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yellow rose: - Yellow roses symbolize joy and uninhibited platonic affection. They also represent new beginnings and pride in the recipient’s achievements. They have come to be recognized as the flower of friendship.

**Yellow Roses**

Steve finds himself wondering just where the time passed as he stands in front of the (L/n) family’s door, waiting for it to open.

He’s still in denial, he realizes absently. He’d known that this would happen eventually, but he’s struck by how quickly one and a half years have passed, giving way to the day before (Y/n) finally leaves home to head off for college.

“Hi,” she greets him with a bright smile the moment she has the door open.

He nods, smiling as best as he can with the strange feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach. “Shall we go?”

With her confirmation, the pair head out, making idle conversation and roaming the familiar streets of Manhattan.

Over the past year, (Y/n) hasn’t really changed all that much, he recalls. She’s just the slightest bit taller, and her hair is different, but she’s still the same old (Y/n), and Steve doesn’t quite know how to say goodbye to her recurring presence in his life.

“I heard about Sokovia,” she brings up softly, watching for his reaction. “Are you okay?”

Sighing, he looks skyward, easing into the bench they were occupying. “I’m okay,” he says after a moment of consideration. “We’ve been under a lot of fire, and Tony’s PR team has been really challenged these past few weeks, but I think we’ll pull through. I just feel really bad about the sheer number of people who’ve lost everything in the fall of Sokovia.”

“None of them deserved to have to live through such a tragedy,” she agrees quietly.

The word ‘tragedy’ reminds him of the gifted young woman back at the Avengers’ Tower who lost everything when her country fell. “I think you’d get along well with Wanda,” he muses aloud, earning a questioning stare from his companion. “She’s Sokovian. She and her brother were part of a series of experiments that have left her with telekinesis and a considerable amount of power. But, right now, she’s still looking for her own place now that her home is gone and she’s all alone.”

“Her brother?” (Y/n) asks, but her tone is hesitant and he thinks she may have already reached the conclusion which is confirmed by Steve’s silence. “I hope she’s able to find a new home with you guys,” she says instead, moving on quickly before they can lapse into a suffocating silence.

“Me too,” Steve smiles, a little sad and a little hopeful all at once.

Her gaze slides to him, her lips curving upwards in a now familiar knowing smile. “What about you?” she asks. “Have you found something of a home yet?”

Steve is quiet for a moment, debating the question and mulling over his answer. Does he have somewhere he considers home now? “Something of a home,” he decides, nodding with a shrug. It isn’t what he thought it would be, but it’s a place he can always return to at the end of the day and that’s all he can ask for.

(Y/n) nods as well- he’s not sure why. “That’s pretty good,” she comments. “You certainly have a lot more people to call friends or family now.”

“I do,” he agrees, smile widening at the thought of the unconventional family the Avengers formed.

“Your orbit has expanded,” she added thoughtfully.

Steve blinks blankly. “My what has expanded?”

“Your orbit,” (Y/n) repeats. “The way my dad once put it, you form the center of your own universe and just about everyone else you encounter orbits around you; all of our orbits overlapping in the spaces where our universes are connected. So, in the past few years, your orbit has expanded. You have more people who make up your universe and share a part in your story.”

He thinks it over, accepting the philosophical turn of their conversation as a regular occurrence with (Y/n) and just going with it.

But she has a goal in mind, and they both know it.

“Just because one body drifts away doesn’t mean they’ve left your orbit,” she continues softly, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “They’re a little harder to reach, but they’re still there. In your orbit, just as you are in theirs.”

Steve finds himself smiling wryly because he recognizes that she’s trying to assure him that her move did not mean the end of their friendship. It’s sweet that she feels the need to take up the responsibility when, perhaps, it ought to have been the other way around.

But Steve always feels like he needs (Y/n) more than she needs him, and they’re both aware of that.

“Are you nervous?” he asks her. “College and moving out is a pretty big deal.”

She nods, slipping her palms under her thighs and leaning forward slightly. “I’m low-key terrified,” she admits easily. “Almost everyone in my class is, too. And I don’t think any of us are actually prepared to go off on our own and face the world, but you have to just go out and do it, you know? There’s no running away from what we’ve been working towards for years.”

Humming, he ruffles her hair with a wry smile. “It’ll be strange,” he comments, “not having you around until the holidays. I’ll miss you, kid.”

She grins despite the exaggerated eye roll. “Jeez, Steve, I’m not going off to India. It’s just Ohio,” she mutters, absently fixing her hair before pausing and turning to him. “Besides, you can visit me, too.”

He smiles, and he thinks it’s strange that he’s so hung up about her departure when only a few weeks ago he barely got away with his life from the city that fell out of the sky.

“You’re going to be great,” he tells her, and he’s absolutely sure about it as well.

(Y/n) smiles bashfully, her fingers tapping against her knees. “Thanks,” she says sincerely, like maybe she really needed to hear that. “It won’t be easy, but I’ll have myself and that’s all I need to be okay.”

“That’s admirable,” he compliments, eyebrows rising slightly.

Giving a sideways glance, she hums. “My mom used to say that home is where the heart is, and no matter what anyone has to say about it, your heart should always be yours before it is anyone else’s. She’d tell me that the world romanticizes the idea of searching for a place to call yours in someone else, but that that was the quickest way to destroy yourself, and you ought to build a place for yourself on your own.

“It’s really stuck with me over the years. And maybe it’s selfish, but I don’t believe I need someone else to feel like I belong somewhere or to something. I don’t necessarily have to belong anywhere but with myself, and I’ll always have that, right?”

For a solid moment, he’s stunned. Those were big words for someone so young, but he doesn’t know why he’s even surprised when he knows that (Y/n)’s of the habit of being alarmingly philosophical for someone her age.

“Build your own place, huh?” he repeats thoughtfully.

(Y/n) nods, looking at him intently. “Build your own place. Regardless of everyone else in your orbit. Independent of everyone but you, because you are the most important thing in your own life, whether you think so or not.”

Steve thinks about disagreeing, but decides not to argue with her. Nothing would ever change the fact that he was a man out of time. But (Y/n) seems to vehemently believe that he belongs- with the Avengers, with her, with the 21st century, and with himself- and maybe that’s enough for right now.

While he sits and contemplates in silence, (Y/n) gets up and crosses over to the flower vendor across from their bench, leaving him to watch her go in equal parts confusion and curiosity.

When she returns, she’s holding a single yellow rose, which she passes to him as she reclaims her seat on the bench.

“Unbridled and genuine friendship,” she recites. “They also convey deep joy and pride.”

He stares at the flower silently for a moment. “Thank you,” he breathes at last, twirling the stem between his thumb and index finger. “I really will miss you, (Y/n),” he adds seriously.

She smiles, a little wryly. “I’ll miss you, too,” she says genuinely. “But even though I won’t be around as much physically, I’m still going to be there in your orbit. Ohio isn’t going to let you get rid of me so easily, Captain Rogers.”

Laughing, he shakes his head. “Thank god for that.”

And they sit for hours later, talking about everything and nothing and all that is in between.

Steve knows this isn’t an end for them. It’s just a little bit of distance and that’s okay. Like (Y/n) said- she’d still linger in his orbit with her pocketful of luck and paint covered clothes, there to tell him that he had beautiful eyes that looked like the sky as she handed him flowers.

He doesn’t always acknowledge his own importance, and Steve knows that he keeps throwing himself into danger and that that isn’t healthy. But he’s healing, and he’s learning how to live, and he’s building a place for himself.

And he knows he’s going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yellow rose: - Yellow roses symbolize joy and uninhibited platonic affection. They also represent new beginnings and pride in the recipient’s achievements. They have come to be recognized as the flower of friendship.


End file.
